Just the top frame. I'm looking for a text interpretation of Strop's pictoral speech.

Darn.

Wait, how does Strop hold a bow? Isn't it hard to hold a bow with hooves?

Strop has fully human hands but hooves for feet as stated in his character sheet in Official AG Characters, which also links to further information about the ninja horse. Anthrohorses are rather useless otherwise, having only one "finger".

The sunlight filtering through the trees heralded the dawning of the day. Strop, trussed up and on the ground, was still out as cold as the humid, morning air. The dew ran down the cracks in the trunks of the tree that stretched to the horizon and then some.

Strop opened his eyes.

...was his first thought. Instantly alerted to the fact he was not, as was his usual custom, waking up in his bed in the tallest tower of Armor Castle, he started racking his mind for any memories that might explain this anomaly.

None were forthcoming.

Then there was the fact that it was cold. And wet. And he couldn't feel his hands and legs. He couldn't even see or move them, and when he tried to move his head, he realised that, too, was immobile. The last person to have done this to him was Nill, which incidentally was also his last memory. But that didn't make any sense.

This morning was rapidly turning worrying. But first things first, Strop thought to himself. He'd have to free his limbs somehow. Despite many wildly exaggerated tales of their abilities, ninja were not gifted with the powers of telekinesis. Strop could only really poof and appear as long as he could actually move (and as long as he had one of those nifty smoke bombs on hand, and neither was the case.)

What was a tied and bound person all on their lonesome to do then? On the off-chance that his ever-reliable sla- protege was present, Strop called out.

"Cen?"

"Cen, are you there?"

"CEEEEEEEEENNNNN!!!"

"I should have known", Strop muttered to himself. Chances were, these days Cenere was more likely to be gallavanting with that girlfriend of his, Sai. Which was just the kind of thing a young man should be doing, and, for Cen, not a moment too soon, but still, it was a rather inconvenient development.

Awkwardly, Strop rolled over until he felt the sharp edge of a rock poking out from the soil. It was all he had to go on, so he started rubbing up against the rock, hoping that he wouldn't starve or go mad before the friction wore the ropes down. Provided this was going to work at all in the first place.

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